


Frankincense and Myrrh

by soft_girl_musings



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Apprentice Backstory, Dissociation, F/M, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Memory Loss, Named Apprentice (The Arcana), Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Romance, Trauma, Unrequited Love, also slightly deviating from canon, it's 2020 babey we out here healing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_girl_musings/pseuds/soft_girl_musings
Summary: A hermit. A flighty magician. A desert flower. The story of three broken people working toward healing, together. But proximity doesn’t equal intimacy, and sacrifices can’t always be repaid in full.This work will draw from Muriel and Asra’s routes, to an extent.
Relationships: Apprentice & Muriel (The Arcana), Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Muriel (The Arcana)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	1. Our New Normal

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the first chapter of the arc inspired by my last story! Please let me know what you think as we ride this mountain man wave together :)

Dusk bleeds into an inky night outside the shop. The work day has ended, and I couldn’t be more grateful. The tension in my shoulders is driving me insane; I rose before dawn, and every inch of me cries out for a hot bath. But first, the shop must be secured. As I turn to shut the window, I see a familiar crop of silvery white hair ruffled over a smiling golden face.

“Closing so soon, Tamar? The sun’s barely set.” Asra’s voice lilts as he crosses his arms, leaning against the sill. I move closer to match his snark, but my smile fades as I see more than his usual daypack sitting behind him.

“You’re leaving.” It was meant as a question, but it falls from my lips like an accusation.

He shrugs. “Just for a little while. Figured I’d head out and clear my head. It’s been too long.”

 _Not long enough, if you ask me._ I catch myself in my bitterness. Of course he needs to clear his head. After what he’d done for the realms, and long after that, I can imagine he’d need to go process it all. It probably went against his nature to remain stationary for as long as he had.

I leave the window and walk outside, settling on the doorstep. I don't feel like towering over Asra tonight. He sits beside me. I can feel his magic brimming with anticipatory energy inside him, his cool exterior betrayed by his most telling feature. He notices my perception and places a hand on mine. “I’m not leaving you, Tamar. I just need to leave Vesuvia for a bit. But I’ll be back.” He nudges my arm playfully. “I always come back.”

_Coming back isn’t the problem; it’s that you’re leaving in the first place. Without me. Again._

He gives my hand a light squeeze, something seemingly repressed flitting across his violet eyes. I manage to catch that look every so often: after a glance lingers a moment too long, or a word carries too much sweetness for his liking. I never have the gall to ask about it.

When he stands, I see a dark, familiar form come from the alley. “Muriel!” I rise to greet him, thankful for an escape from the doorstep tension. Muriel stands to the side of the entrance, stiff and stoic as usual. But I sense his contentment when he nods at me.

"Tamar." Terse as ever, but my name is tinged with a heavy kindness I'd learned to detect.

"Why are you here so late? I thought you weren't due to get supplies for three more days." I notice his rucksack, and my spirits sink further. "Are you… are you leaving, too?”

Asra laughs and rests a hand on Muriel’s shoulder. “Quite the contrary! I asked him to stay in town with you while I’m away. I didn’t know how you’d feel being alone for the first time in a while, so,” he gestures broadly to his friend, “Muriel’s here.”

Crimson creeps onto my cheeks. Muriel’s face flushes, as well. Our new shades are, thankfully, hidden by the impending nightfall. Did Asra really not know?

Pleased with his “gift”, Asra picks up the bags and dons his feathered cap. “I suppose I’ll be going, then.” He gives Muriel a solid pat on the back, then turns to me. “You remember how to reach me, Tamar?” I nod. I’d become well-versed in looking for him through watery portals. I had only hoped to wait a bit longer to use that knowledge again.

Asra offers a soft smile. He approaches, holding out his hand as if he doesn’t know where to place it. He settles for shaking mine and squeezing one last time.

“Any chance you can tell me where you’re going this time?”

His smile falls briefly, then gathers itself into a mischievous grin. “And ruin the mystery of it all?”

I play along. “You’re going to run out of mysteries if you keep chasing them like this, ‘Master’.”

He winks. “Only one way to find out.” With a final squeeze and a tip of the cap, he sets off down the cobbled road leading away from our home.

When he turns the corner, I release a breath I hadn't realized I’d been holding. Looking up at Muriel, I let myself smile more fully. “Hey.”

His smile broadens, as well. “...Hey.”

“Ready to start babysitting?” I lace my arms around his free limb and lead him inside, waggling an eyebrow at his rapidly blushing face.

“I-I’m not babysitting you, Asra just a-asked me to come over--”

“Relax, Muriel. I’m kidding.” I lock the door and seal it with a protective spell before turning to face him again. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He leans against the counter, slightly crouched under our low ceiling. He doesn't look at me. “Did Asra tell you he was going away?”

I busy myself with a broom and begin to sweep, even though every inch of the shop was clearly pristine. “Only when he was about to head out. But it’s fine. He... he’s always been spontaneous like this. Keeps me on my toes.” I laugh, but I don’t believe it. After searching my face, knuckles turning white as he grasps the counter, neither does Muriel.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I thought… he had learned to think about you before running away again. Before leaving you alone.”

“Ah, but I’m not alone.” I move to sit next to him. On top of the counter, I’m much closer to his stubbled jawline. “I have you to watch over me this time.”

He brushes the top of my hand with his fingers, feather-lightly. “...I’ve always watched over you.”

My fingers, in turn, grasp his hand. Warm, as always. Asra’s hands were always cold, like the water my magic would wade through to speak to him on nights like this. But Muriel’s retain a subtle heat, like the fading embers of the hearth in front of us. “I know.”

My head rests on his shoulder, our breathing slowing to a similar, steady pace. While I’m sad Asra left, I’m thankful for the twofold gift he left in his absence. Muriel and I never get to be like this when he’s around-- not in the shop, at least. He never asked why I started spending more time in the woods; he was probably too caught up in whatever he was running away from tonight. I think about telling him about us at least once a day. But things have been so calm lately, and for the first time in months, I can embrace my happiness without fearing for its longevity. Telling Asra might disrupt this new normal we’d fallen into.

Still staring into the fading fire, Muriel shifts a little. “You feel tense.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. ‘Weight of the World,” I scoff toward his broad back.

He stands and gathers his belongings. “You need to sleep. Go.”

As much as I hate to break the peaceful moment, I know he’s right. When I’m back on my feet, my exhaustion hits me at full force. I stumble, but Muriel is quick to steady me. Without a word of warning, he immediately sweeps me up, gathers my legs in his other arm, and carries me up the stairs to my bed. I shriek in surprise, but comply.

He places me down gently, pulling the covers back over my tired form. “I’ll see you at daybreak.” With a final caress of my shoulder, he lumbers back downstairs.

I kick off my shoes and bury my heated face into my blankets.

_Yeah. I’m going to be just fine._


	2. Beside Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever wonder what it's like to come back from the dead?

Heavy peals of thunder shake the bed frame, jolting me awake. My stomach sinks in an instant.

A dreary cover of clouds blocks any notion of sunlight; the only contrast comes from the streaks of lightning erratically striking the sky. The wind howls with a vengeance. Raindrops pelt the roof like a shower of stones thrown by invisible enemies. It’s absolutely deafening. Dreaded instinct takes over and my heart pounds like a drum. Suddenly there’s not enough air. It takes everything in me to dive back under my covers and pin a pillow to either side of my head.

It was raining when I first woke up in this body.

My first memory assaults my mind with each new crack of thunder. It’s unnervingly fresh: the ice-cold floor beneath me-- how every inch of me felt as dense as lead and entirely foreign-- the only thing I could register being the arms of a stranger. My eyes sting as they recall how painful it was to look upon even the dim candlelight surrounding me. The slight brightness was an assault I couldn't escape. I couldn't even cry out. I was paralyzed.

Lightning streaks the sky and is followed by an intense crack of the storm's fury. My breath fights to stay in my chest. _This is too much. This is too much._ What was the count? In through the nose, 3, 4, _hold_... out through the mouth, 3, 4...

_Those thoughts are in the past. I am not the same person in that memory._

That mantra plays over and over as my lungs steady my breath. I haven't had to do this in a while-- the worst weather we'd seen this season was the occasional shower every few weeks. Although I’m out of practice, the attack subsides as I sense the storm moving South.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

I don’t register Muriel’s presence in the room until I finally open my eyes. He’s sitting on the floor, facing my side of the bed. His eyes hold the ache of pity I’d seen countless times before.

“Storm’s passed,” he offers softly. I prop myself up, finally able to move again. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” I admit, “But better.” A weary smile crosses my face. “I haven’t been home for a thunderstorm in ages. Feels weird.”

I can’t remember the last time I had to ride out the effects of a storm by myself, let alone at the shop. Ever since last winter, I had made a habit of going to Muriel’s hut whenever I knew a storm was coming. He had a way of keeping me grounded. My flashbacks were never as intense with him by my side.

He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, causing it to sink comically low beneath him. He lays his hand down, palm-up. An invitation I gladly accept. “I… needed to check on the chickens.” His guilt-ridden face falls further. “I should have come sooner.”

I move to his side once my hand disappears in his. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Countless storms were spent beside each other, hand-in-hand. I had forgotten what thunder sounded like when it wasn’t paired with the rumble of Muriel’s voice drowning it out. A man of few words, they seemed to tumble out all at once when he tried to distract me from myself: his ordinary stories of the forest’s typical events were as enthralling as a fairy tale while I outran my own mind. The glow from the hearth was bright enough to scatter the memory of harsh light on new eyes. I almost thanked every storm once it passed for its gift of the care I could count on.

A few moments pass, then Muriel looks over my tired form. “What do you need?” 

I assess my body’s calmed state. Now that the adrenaline has passed, I feel yesterday’s aches much more acutely. I grimace at the jolt of soreness I discover when I roll my shoulders. “I could go for a hot bath.”

  
  


It takes Muriel a few trips to bring enough water inside for me, but he eventually fills the small cast iron tub in the other room. When I enter clad in my bathrobe, he moves past me to leave the cramped room, cheeks tinged with color. “...I’ll be downstairs.” 

Heat floods my cheeks, in turn. _Probably could have waited to change… oh well._ What’s done is done.

I kneel next to the tub and dip my finger into the water. _Ech, freezing._ I smirk.

_Well, not for long._

I plunge both hands into the cold water and focus my magic into my palms. I imagine heat flowing out from me, imbuing the water with comforting warmth. Steam begins to rise and the surface bubbles around my hands. Magic certainly has its perks.

While the tub boils on its own, I grab my favorite lavender-scented bubble bath and pour it liberally into the churning water. The dusty floral scent immediately relaxes me. I wrap my hair in a makeshift turban and slide in gingerly-- _oh yeah. I needed this._ Sinking down until the water reaches my chin, I let the tension of the previous day melt away.

When I’m done, I place my hands in the tub once more-- this time, thinking of clouds and wisps of steaming liquid. The bathwater evaporates and envelopes the room in a fragrant haze.

I don a simple tunic and billowing lounge pants before I let my hair loose. The thick, black curls hold their shape until I work a blend of oils through each section, braiding it into four plaits down my back. I gaze into the glass before me, the steam cleared from my reflection. My hands ghost over my features, slow to recognize their connection to the same body.

_This body…_

There’s no telling how many times I catch myself in this fog of dissociation. It comes on at random-- most often when strolling past a window, or looking at a puddle in the right light.

And, of course, in front of the mirror.

It is as if I’m watching someone else explore the body in front of me. I recognize the brown eyes, the slope of the nose, even the hints of freckles threatening to form across my sun-kissed, tawny complexion. But I can never seem to tether my mind to the visage before me. Missing decades of memories is one thing; feeling like a stranger in the only body you can recall is another.

When I’m alone, I sometimes make a game out of my unfamiliarity. _Who is this woman?_

I peer into the mirror with newfound determination. Why not get creative? _Dark complexion, but light enough to freckle and burn…_ I decide she could be from the Desert regions, but with an exotic twist in her heritage. Part of me wonders if this is true; my magic seems to thrive in the heat of summer. _Ah, ah, no thinking! All in good fun._ Besides, Asra had warned me about thinking about my past too hard. I haven’t gone catatonic in a long time, and I plan to keep it that way.

I peer into my own eyes, dark and warm as the reflection gazes back. _These eyes… probably to find the best deals at the marketplace. Strong, yet soft arms… to give the finest hugs this side of the district._ I smile to myself, and refuse to flinch when the woman in front of me smiles, too.

_What matters is that I’m alive._   
  


I find Muriel adding wood to the fireplace in the main storefront. The rain has been steadily falling since this morning’s torrents subsided. On dreary days like this, all of Vesuvia seems to hold its breath and wait for the sun to return before continuing life as usual. We didn’t have to worry about being disturbed. A perfect setup for my second-favorite part of recovery.

I take a large, round metal drum off its place on the shelf below the counter. The tortoise shell-shaped handpan hums with energy as soon as my hands brush over its various divots. I open the shop door and sit on the front step, settling the drum between my knees. Muriel comes out, cloak over his head, and fills the remaining space on the steps.

I enjoy the sound and scent of the rain a moment longer, summoning my magic into my hands. I feel it bubble and swell with new life; it’s drinking in every aspect of the rainfall, a parched plant gorging itself on fresh water within me. With one last deep breath, I begin.

My fingers move deftly over the instrument’s enchanted surface, sending bright and hollow tones through the air. As sound mixes with moisture, the water falling around us begins to change. Raindrops take shape and color before me, rising and swirling as I thrummed a familiar tune from memory. The song’s timbre is displayed in a show of water droplets, expertly dancing in time before fading away. My hands know what to do by heart; all I focus on is my breathing.

I feel detached from my body once more, but this time I look upon myself with contentment. I watch Muriel follow the movements of the drum’s tune, an easy peace gracing his features. There was no danger forcing our proximity; he was there because he chose to be. His eyes widen as the music takes their deep green color-- I smile, paying special attention to the added flair in what I knew to be his favorite movement. Again, I come close to thanking the deity responsible for the storms in my life. Moments like this far outweighed my loathing for the stress they caused. Muriel is always there to bring me through to the other side. When I look at him, I realize how much I already depend on him. It’s been a while since I’ve trusted anyone new. My magic turns the water a rosy hue as I ponder a new mantra:

_What matters is that I’m alive, with him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was definitely more Apprentice-heavy, I do hope you’ll forgive me. I promise the next few chapters will be more Muriel-focused. 
> 
> The instrument/song I drew inspiration from is Kate Stone's "Cobblestone": https://youtu.be/-5kqJ099pmc . I knew as soon as I heard it that this was Tamar’s “sound” (there may or may not be an entire character playlist underway, but that’s my business for now).
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Mud Pies (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The love of a child is a strange force, indeed.

_ "Muri?" _

_ He jolted awake at the soft voice. How long had he been asleep? _

_ Muriel scanned the darkness, settling on the amber eyes peering out from the cracked bedroom door. _

_ "...Why are you awake." Not really a question, because he didn't really want an answer. He was there to guard the house, not babysit. _

_ She flinched at his tone. Muriel almost felt bad for her-- she looked like an adult, but her mind still hadn’t caught up to her body. It wasn't her fault. But it also wasn't his. _

_ He drew his cloak closer to his chest. Even in the dark, her eyes shone a little too brightly. "What do you want." _

_ The apprentice opened the door and slid toward him. Knees to chest, she sat across the hall. They remained like this for a while, tense silence hanging between them. Her eyes darted around the dark hallway, warily glancing at his hardened features before looking away. She drew in a deep breath, then spoke. _

_ "Asra?"  _

_ He shook his head. "Still gone." _

_ Her face fell. "Oh." _

_ This was the third night they had done this. Asra hadn’t been gone this long since before the incident. The apprentice was getting restless without him. As moonlight poured in through the skylight above them, he could see the silvery streak of a tear slide down her cheek.  _

_ “...He said to tell you… something.” The words left his mouth before he realized he was speaking.  _

_ The apprentice leapt up, lunged across the hall and knelt in front of him. “Asra?” She buzzed with anticipation. _

_ Uh oh. His face flushed as he searched for the right words. “He said… he... misses you.” _

_ The apprentice’s face lit up. Was it really that easy? _

_ “Asra!” She cried, eagerly thumping the ground. She let out a giddy laugh and leapt to her feet once more. “As-ra…” _

_ Her innocence was almost pitiable. Muriel felt a pang of guilt as he watched her-- a whole woman reduced to a simpering child whose life revolved around the one person that was there the least. He wondered if his friend knew how much his absence affected everyone else. _

_ He stood and opened the bedroom door. “You should sleep.” _

_ The apprentice continued to bubble with glee, but ran back to her room. Muriel could still hear her singing Asra's name through the door. _

_ He'd better come home soon. _

  
  
  


He could still hear her singing, but her voice grew closer, warmer, brighter…

“Mur-i-el…”

He roused from a deep sleep by the sound of Tamar crooning his name, stroking his back as she sat beside him. He sat up, surprisingly groggy. He felt an extra blanket over him that wasn’t there when he first laid down by the hearth. Tamar beamed down at him and stood, grinning triumphantly. “You slept through the night. Good dreams?”

Muriel wiped his eyes and shook his head. “Just… dreams.”

Tired eyes followed her as she walked back to the stairs. “I’ll be in the kitchen, come join me when you’re ready!” He nodded, pushing through the lingering fog of last night’s rest. He thought he’d be used to this by now-- the peace of actually  _ sleeping _ \-- but it was still strange to wake up feeling rested. He knew part of it was the weather, and the security of the shop, but it was mostly due to Tamar’s magic. There was something about the way she seamlessly combined her talents for music and enchantment… he never stirred, never struggled with dark thoughts when she’d serenade him.  _ ‘Course, that could just be Tamar. _

Muriel folded the blankets before walking upstairs. Turning the corner, he was met with the warm aroma of flatbread, fresh from the stove. Tamar had been wrapping multiple pieces in brightly colored bundles that littered the cramped counter space. She had already set aside a fresh piece of bread and a cup of tea on the table.

"Here you go. If you'd like to come with me, eat quickly!"

He sat down and began to eat, then stopped. “Come with you where?”

Tamar wiped sweat from her brow, replacing it with a streak of flour. “Down to the docks!” 

“The… docks?” What business could she have down there? 

“Yes!” She grew more excited as she fumbled with the strings of her apron. “I’m long overdue to check in on my little buddies.”

_ Little… buddies? _ His stomach sank as he realized what she meant. “The orphans.”

“Yes!!” She exclaimed again, face growing more frustrated as she worked the knot. “Um, a little help?” She grinned sheepishly as she walked to where he sat, turning around to show her handiwork.

Muriel grunted as he gently set to the apron strings. She’d really tangled herself in here. “...Why are you going to see the orphans?”

“It’s something I’ve always done when Asra goes away. I haven’t been able to visit them in a few months, but since he’s gone, I wanted to check in on everyone after the storm.” She huffed and shifted her weight, dragging his hands along with her hips. “Asra always tells me it’s ‘too dangerous’ to go down there, but--”

“He’s right.”

Tamar turned, yanking the strings from his hands. “What?”

Muriel stood, towering over her as his face darkened. “It’s too dangerous to go to the docks.”

She laughed, standing her ground. “Oh come on, Muriel, don’t be a stick in the mud like Asra--”

“I’m serious, Tamar, you haven’t seen the docks the way I have. I lived through it. Those children, they can be cruel. And if anyone were to hurt you…” he trailed off, not knowing how to finish. He sat back down with a heavy sigh. “... _ I  _ sound like the cruel one, don’t I?”

Tamar gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Not entirely… you’ve seen things I’ve never had to. And I appreciate you being protective.” She lifted his chin with her free hand. “But they’re  _ children _ , Muriel. Children without families. In a way, I get what they’re going through, too.”

Muriel’s hand met hers and brought it to his chest. “It’s a bitter life. And it makes you a bitter person.”

“All the more reason to go.” Muriel saw tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, but she powered through. "I... won’t pretend to fully grasp your wounds. But I have wounds of my own. Without my memories, it’s like… I’m a bit of an orphan, too.” She began to wipe at her eyes, still smudging her face with flour as she struggled to get through her defense. “If my small taste of that life is so bitter, shouldn’t I try to sweeten their lives whenever I can?”

He’d need to have a heart of stone to not see how tender hers was. Her tears made Muriel think back to his own time as a child. If he had been met with the kindness she was trying to offer, would his life had been any more bearable?

He stood and went to the counter. He began placing the bread in the basket nearby, silent all the while.

“...Muriel?”

“I’ll meet you outside.” He might not like what she had planned, but he’d be damned if he let her do it alone. "...Oh." He went back to Tamar's side and deftly untied her apron. Before she could speak, he brushed his thumb across her cheek and offered a small smile. "You should wash your face before we go."   
  


Their walk to the shore was quiet, silence hanging between them like the morning fog. The storm had left a slight chill in its wake, warning the city-state of the approaching season. Muriel’s eyes were dead-set on the road ahead, but he could feel Tamar glancing up at him every few paces. FInally, he decided to break the silence.

“So where exactly are you taking me, Enchantress?”

Poor words. Her eyes grew wider as her hands flew to her mouth. “Did I do it again?” she yelped.

He turned to her. Tamar had stopped in her tracks, eyes moving wildly as she searched her memory of the morning.

“No, Tamar-- Tamar, you didn’t do anything.” He dropped the basket and placed both hands on her shoulders, lowering himself to her level. “I came on my own accord. I promise.” He remained there until she could give him a nod, bringing her breathing back to normal.

“Okay. I believe you.” 

Muriel picked up the basket and they began to walk again: this time, his eyes didn’t leave her.

“...Has this been an issue lately?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been pretty tame since last winter. My social circle has been fairly limited, so I can’t tell if I’m working on someone without my knowledge, or if we’re simply growing closer.” She chuckled dryly. “Isn’t that a kick in the head?”

Muriel hummed in agreement. Now that he thought of it, she didn’t speak as much when they were out-- when she did, she chose her words carefully. At home, she would speak first, think later. “Being that guarded sounds… exhausting.”

Tamar offered a small smile. “It is.” Her smile grew as she continued. “But that’s part of the reason I wanted to do this today. I’ve never had to worry about my words with the children. They’ve been so receptive, I sometimes wonder if they’re working their magic on me!” There was no denying the growing joy inside her as she spoke of the orphans. This was a different kind of happiness, one that Muriel hadn’t seen in a long time-- not since before he removed himself from the picture. 

He refused to deny her anything that brought this smile back to her face.

Muriel reached for her hand beneath her cloak. With a gentle squeeze, he met her gaze again. “...Tell me more about your ‘little buddies.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy oh boy, has this been an interesting chapter for me to write. So much so I decided to break it into two halves. I just have A Lot Of Feelings about the upcoming scenes, and I'm trying to do everyone justice out here in the streets.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
